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This post finishes the story I started in my last post. A few days after posting it I was flipping through one of my more recent sketchbooks and found the sketch above, which I drew a few months ago. I distinctly remember drawing it and thinking "Why did I draw them dancing?" I guess this story must have already been in my subconscious or something, because it works perfectly, even the outfit Aislin is wearing is right. I'd like to give special thanks to my wonderful mother, for helping me edit. Hopefully between the two of us we got most of the typos. Hope you enjoy!
The Dragon Scholar
By Julie Heydorn
Chapter One
What am I doing here? Ember thought to himself as he looked about the hall full of swirling, happy dancers. He had given up dancing years ago, after his injury, so why was he at a village dance? Was he really that bored? Apparently anthropological observations of one of the few groups still untouched by dragons was not his cup of tea. He would not be tricked by Professor Illsley so easily again. “Fascinating insights from a dragonless culture” indeed. He should stick with what he knew he loved. He should spend his time finding a bonder for the Aerid instead of sitting here taking notes on ethnic dance. He glanced around the room, only to have his gaze rest on a young woman who seemed at least as bored as he was. Well, perhaps bored was not the right word. She seemed, abstracted. Lost in thought. Not the usual appearance of a young woman at a lively dance. She was blond like most of the Marsi, but of a color so light it was almost white. Large distracted eyes under dark lashes appeared to be green, but she was too far away to be certain. Ember caught himself thinking she was by far the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Since when did he care about that? As a scholar, indeed the youngest scholar to ever attain professorship at the university, he was too busy to be chasing after girls like other young men his age. He refocused his gaze to her attire, which was one of the more interesting aspects of this culture. The Marsi told much about themselves through their traditional dress. Lets see, Three rows of shoulder panels, that meant she was fairly wealthy. Knee length skirt indicated a young but fully grown adult. The lack of a triangular embroidered panel on her bodice meant she was unmarried, and the embroidered strips on her skirt indicated her clan. Dragon scales dangling from her hair and shoulder panels were used as a ward against danger in this society. Interesting, but only mildly. As he took in these details he could not help but notice as several men approached the girl for a dance, only to be abruptly refused. They left in varying degrees of disappointment and embarrassment, and the girl continued her pondering.
Ember suddenly found himself on his feet and walking with his mild limp towards her. He was going to ask her to dance. Why not? There was nothing else to do, and since he also wished to be somewhere else, perhaps she would actually agree to dance with him. Reaching her bench, he cleared his throat. “I hesitate to venture where so many have failed, but would you do me the honor?” he said, amazed to find himself blushing slightly. She stared at him for a moment, then said, with a slightly puzzled look “Are you asking me to dance?” “Um, yes” he replied, almost as amazed as she seemed to be. There was another pause, where her sparkling eyes, which he could now see were definitely green, seemed to stare right through him. Then she nodded and said “Yes, I will ‘do you the honor.’”She repeated his words dubiously, as if unsure of whether they were proper or not. He smiled, as much at her response as at his own happiness at her acceptance. What had come over him? He didn’t even know her! As they moved into place and began to dance, the girl seemed to slip away once more into thought. After several moments of silence he finally broke it, saying “Pardon me, but you seem unusually abstracted this evening. Is something amiss?” “Abstracted?” she questioned back, and he clarified “withdrawn, preoccupied,” and at her confused look he added “thoughtful.” “Oh,” She responded. “Yes, I am afraid I have quite a problem before me tonight.” “Well, it is clearly not trouble finding a partner, as you seem to have your pick of anyone here!” He remarked. She blushed slightly at this, and after sending a quick, enquiring glance into his face said “Actually, in a way you are right. I am forced to choose a husband by the end of the night, or have one chosen for me” she said with a grimace. Ember startled. He had not thought such things happened outside of history books these days. “Picked for you! Ah, I see. And is it so hard for you to choose on your own?” “Yes.” She said succinctly. “Ah. And why is that? There seem to be many handsome young men here to choose from.” She looked searchingly around the room, as if needing to confirm his observation, before replying with some doubt. “Yes, I suppose. But actually I don’t care about that” “Oh, then what exactly do want in a husband?” He asked curiously. “Books” She replied, and Ember startled again. She looked up at him and then down at his leg in response, obviously concerned about his limp, and he shamelessly used the opportunity. “I find I tire slightly. Shall we sit for a moment?” She nodded, and he moved them to an empty bench. “Books?” He asked once they were seated. picking up on her brevity. “Well, I want to learn to read, and then to read lots and lots, and I don’t think any of the--the options, own anything besides an almanac.” “Perhaps if they knew your interest in them they would acquire some.” He suggested. She laughed at that, and apparently considered that enough of a response. Ember sat silently for a moment, rubbing his leg abstractedly, first in thought and then, as his thoughts reached a conclusion, in an embarrassment he hadn’t felt in years. “Well then, would you possibly consider marrying me?” he asked.
She stared up at him, amazed. “I don’t even know who you are!” She said, cutting to the central problem. “Oh, my name is Ember, well, Dashel actually, Dashel Thorpember. The 3rd.” he added meekly. “Ember Dashel Thorpember the 3rd?” She asked. He shook his head, smiling again. He hadn’t smiled at anyone so much in years.“My friends just call me Ember, for obvious reasons.” He responded, glancing up at his glowing red hair. “And who are you, Mr.---Ember?” she asked. “Well, it’s technically Sir, or Professor, but I am a scholar and a--collector. From Inning.” “Oh. A collector? And what do you collect?” She asked suspiciously. “Dragons. Rare ones to be exact. I am currently endeavouring to discover and preserve ancient breeds before they are lost forever.” She stared back and him, suspicion and curiosity warring for dominance in her eyes. “Actually, you might be able to help me tremendously if you were to accept my offer.” Suspicion won. “How? Are you going to feed me to one of them?” she asked accusingly “Feed you to them?” Caught up in considering how anyone could have such nicely curled lashes, it took him a moment to return to the thread of conversation. “Oh, you mean like in the old tales.”He replied when it finally clicked what she was referring to. “Of course not! I believe they prefer lamb anyway, although some of the larger breeds go more for cattle, so I doubt they would take you even if I tried... Which I wouldn’t!” He added hastily, realizing that he was not exactly strengthening his position talking like that. She snorted softly, then seemed to grow thoughtful. “If I went with you, you would teach me to read?” “On my honor” he said, and as her eyes narrowed, no doubt considering that she had no notion what his honor was, he added. “It would be my pleasure.” “And you’d let me read all I want after you teach me?” “My entire library, which I believe has spread from its original place to encompass two additional rooms, would be yours to enjoy” he replied. She shook her head slowly, the motion setting the dragon scales in her hair on fire with reflected light. Dragon scales. Even as he admired the effect of the light reflecting of of them and her eyes his mind took off. Scales. The villagers were covered in them, yet for some reason no dragons would fly to this valley high in the mountains. And the scale shape was unique. There had to have been a breed here at some point. He would have to make a further study...He snapped out of his thoughts hurriedly as he realized that the girl was speaking to him “Sir? Sir Ember?” “My apologies, I am afraid I got slightly distracted by your scales and their implications regarding the existence of dragons in this valley at some point in its history”. “You were thinking about dragons?” She asked in surprise, and Ember realized he had probably offended her. Who thinks about dragons while proposing to a girl?” “Ah, yes, I am afraid so.” She looked at him, appraisingly. “Well, in that case, I guess I will, what was it that you said? ‘Do you the honor’?” Shocked that she had actually accepted, Ember’s mind whirled even as he found himself bowing slightly, smiling, and forming the words “Thank you.”
“We should tell my uncle immediately, or he’s likely to promise me to that fool Raldor” she said, and Ember obediently stood and followed her to the head of the room. He startled once again as they drew to a stop in front of the Chief of the clans. Ember had talked to him briefly on arriving at Marsin in order to gain his permission to visit for a while, but he had no idea that this girl was his niece. “Uncle, I have made my choice.” she said abruptly, and Ember noticed a sudden silence drop on all within hearing distance. What exactly had he gotten himself into anyway? No wonder all the young men were asking her to dance. She was the Chief’s niece and tonight was the night of her betrothal! Well, he’d certainly have some firsthand experience with Marsi customs to report to professor Illsley anyway. He caught back on to the thread of conversation around him. “--always knew you would choose young Raldor” the Chief was saying. “Actually, my choice is Sir Dashel Thorpember the 3rd” She said, squaring her shoulders as she interrupted the chief’s congratulations. “What!” he barked out, and Ember was suddenly grateful for years of intense university term examinations that had left him with a backbone of steel. “You!” He shouted at Ember. Ember just bowed, unsure of the procedure in such a situation. “We will have to have the ceremony now, as Sir Dashel is leaving first thing tomorrow morning.” She said, and Ember startled for what felt like the hundredth time that night. “Now?” The chief shouted, and Ember began to see where the girl got her brevity. He realized suddenly that he didn’t even know her name. What a mess! “Yes. Everyone is already here for the dance, we might as well make it a wedding.” she said. The chief stared silently, eyes bulging, and Ember prepared himself for an explosion, but it never came. Suddenly the chief deflated with a loud laugh. “Well I wanted to get you off my hands in a hurry, and it looks like you took me at my word. Steward! Bring the scepter, we’re having a wedding!”
So it was the Sir Dashel Thorpember the 3rd, Scholar and Dragon collector, found himself not only totally infatuated with a girl, but hearing her name for the first time as he knelt across from her at the feet of the clan chief in their marriage ceremony. “As chief of the Marsi clans and of the Aniul clan I now bind my niece Aniul Aislin to Sir Dashel Thorpember the 3rd, till the White Dragon flies again.” With that he lowered the scepter he had been holding aloft and pounded the floor with it three times, and the assembled guests broke into a confused but happy cheer. He suddenly realized he had no idea what to do next. Was he supposed to kiss her? Or was that taboo in this culture? Ember kicked himself for not spending more time studying that anthropological tome Illesly had given him before his trip. But before he could decide what to do they were surrounded and Aislin was being carried away by a swarm of happy revelers, and with some regret Ember realized that decided the matter, for now anyway.
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